by Sarah Noffke
“I’m glad you think so. It’s my first time to decorate a Christmas tree,” Adelaide says.
“No,” Dahlia says, popping into a seated position. “But you said your mother was religious.”
“Well, yeah, but we were as poor as shit,” she says with a shrug.
At this Dahlia slaps my arm again.
“Don’t slap me,” I say, my eyes still on the sentence I’ve been trying to read for ten minutes. “It’s not my fault her mum couldn’t get a better paying job.”
“Well, she had the burden of raising your child,” Dahlia says, and by the tone of her voice she’s offended.
I look up to find Adelaide with a slight smile on her face. She’s enjoying this. “I grew up in the lower class too,” I say. “It builds character. And now you’re rich. Happy? It’s bloody great being rich.”
“You’re rich actually,” Adelaide says, her eyes on the tree, an intent focus on the arrangement, like she’s trying to figure out what needs adjusting.
“Yes I am. But what’s mine is yours. That’s how this whole repugnant arrangement works, right?” I say.
“I don’t want your damn money,” Adelaide says, straightening a fake robin on a limb.
“Oh, then you just want to live with us and have us pay your way while you sketch ponies all day and hone your evil dream traveling skills? Is that it?” I say.
“Yeah, that seems about right,” Adelaide says. “Does that work?”
“Sure,” I say with an indifferent shrug. I’m pulling my book back up when my mobile rings on the tabletop.
A brief glance at the caller ID earns a long sigh from me. I consider not answering, since I’m supposed to have the week off to readjust after the move; well, and to spend dozens of hours shagging Dahlia.
“What?” I say into the phone.
“Ren, I have news,” Trey says.
“Is this about Vivian?” I say and at once notice Dahlia tense. She knows who Vivian is. Doesn’t like the way I told the story, which was matter-of-fact. “She said we were going to rule from the cliff tops. The Marilyn Monroe lookalike definitely has the hots for me.”
“Get that look off your face,” I say to Dahlia.
“Excuse me?” Trey says.
“Not you,” I say. “Although you probably have that wrinkled brow thing going on. So go ahead and get that look off your face too.”
“And no, this isn’t about Vivian. We still have the investigative reporters looking into things. I’ll let you know when I have more information,” Trey says.
“I cannot wait,” I say, my voice dead of emotion.
“This is about Adelaide actually,” Trey says, and his voice shifts. Tightens.
“Go on,” I say, my eyes flicking to the girl who has no idea her name has been mentioned, her eyes pinned on her task of decorating the tree.
“I had her blood test run,” Trey says.
“Why would you do that? I told you she didn’t want the job,” I say and Adelaide’s attention is ripped from her work. She stares at me with uncertain eyes.
“I know, but I thought that if she changed her mind, then we’d be ready to go. I kind of figured in time she’d come around,” Trey says.
“Well, maybe she will,” I say, giving Adelaide a look, the one I keep giving her when we discuss this topic and she fights me on it.
“Doesn’t matter if she does,” Trey says. “She doesn’t qualify at the current time to be an agent.”
“Wait. What?” I say, not having expected Trey to say that. “How is that even possible?”
“It’s her blood test,” he says. That’s all he says, which is insufficient.
“Why?” I say at once.
“She has a condition, and the test states that she’s had it since before you met her. Four, maybe five months,” Trey says.
“A condition,” I say, my voice suddenly higher than usual. Dahlia’s eyes are wide with worry as she listens to only my part of the conversation.
Adelaide has shuffled to put some garland back in a box, her fast hand movements making her nervousness known. Then she turns and rushes for the door.
“Yes, a condition. Ren, Adelaide is pregnant,” Trey says.
“Oh fuck,” I say, hanging up on Trey at once.
Epilogue
I’ve wondered for quite time if stupidity would be the thing that killed the human race. Now I realize how wrong the question was. Yes, being stupid could kill us. However, I never considered that it was in fact stupidity that kept us on this bloody Earth. Stupidity may just be the very reason that humans have continued to exist when we should have died out long ago. This is because stupid people are prone to breed more stupid people into this world, creating a never-ending cycle. Actually, stupid people are the ones breeding. The ones too daft to take care not to overpopulate our crowded cities and overburden our resources with babies. These babies then grow up to do the same as their parents, creating an epidemic of stupidity that can’t be erased.
And I never realized that one day I’d discover that I was one of those stupid people. I’ve bred stupidity into this world.
I’m Ren Lewis and I’m a part of the problem.
Keep Reading for the Next Installment in the Ren Series!
Acknowledgements:
I have some amazing readers. I’m not just saying that. I wouldn’t. I don’t give lip service. Today a reader made me my very own personalize Pokémon card. That makes me a big deal. And then another made personalized pillow designs for me. Wait, what? I’ve dreamed about this…well, not specifically. But still to have people, real people, make memes for me and all sorts of other awesome stuff. Well it’s the things I’ve dreamed about. I wrote alone for so long and just wanted someone to care one day. Actually, I wanted a lot of someone’s to care. And now I have so many supportive and super fun readers. I’m serious when I say that you all make my day, each and every day. There’s too many awesome moments where I’m so glad I chose this profession. I love teaching, but my students don’t make GIFs for me, let’s be honest. They’re cool and all, but you all rock. So thank you.
Thank you to my editor Christine LePorte. I think this was the rare book where you really had to give me direction. And that you did and I’m supremely happy with the edits. Here’s to number eleven.
Thank you to my cover designer Andrei Bat. Fastest cover ever. And that was even with me totally mucking up the instructions in the beginning. Good thing we can laugh about it now. Well, I’m not laughing. But go ahead, laugh at the things I do. That’s fine. You’re allowed, because you’re awesome and I love your work. Can’t wait to work on the next cover with you. And the next and the next. You get the point.
And then there’s my awesome beta reading team for this book, which makes me feel like I’m a mastermind with a cabinet who advises. I heart my beta readers for a lot of reasons. One they make me better. Two they make my books better. And three they make the world better, but I’m not sure they know this last one. It’s still true. So a huge thank you to my first chair Colleen. You may ask why she’s called that. Well she puts in the time, the effort, the awesomeness. And she sits in the first chair for that reason. Colleen is my first reader. The person who sees my books when they’re still crap. She overlooks the roughness and polishes them until they are near perfect. And she tells me things. Things that helps, like this scene blew my socks off and this one I didn’t understand. And we converse and in the process my books get better. All because this lady cares and loves me and Ren and the books that he’s in. Lol. And then there’s my other amazing beta readers. Heidi, Heidi, Kelly, and Melinda. You all gave me such fantastic input. Each different. Each helpful. And can I just say that discussing the nuances of the book with each one of you really helps my journey when creating. I don’t discount any of it. Every bit we talk about is vaulted away, analyzed and used in some regard. This is the weirdness that is me.
Thank you to Katie for checking my British vernacular. I’m not British, only obsessed with a
man who is. And it’s important that I get him and his city spot on. Your input on the first Ren book was so helpful and since then I’ve had many a Brit tell me how accurate the book was. All thanks to you.
And a big thank you to Dominic and Maja who run the fan group on Goodreads. I know that Dominic can’t read these books yet because Ren is a filthy man. But still that kid makes each day better when he sends me an email. His support is awesome. He makes bookmarks, advertises and creates tons of threads about my books. I only wished that I would inspire someone like this one day. Now that I have, well I’m feeling like doing a cartwheel. However, I won’t because I can’t. I’m at a desk right now.
And thank you to BOD. I say it over and over and it’s never enough. You all run my parties. You all share my posts. You all buy my ebooks, then signed paperbacks and audiobooks. I’m not sure what hocus pocus surrounds BOD members, but I’ve yet to find one who isn’t amazing. Who didn’t give me amazing support. And who I don’t freaking adore. Seriously in love with this group. The ladies who run it are superb. And so grateful to Katy for running the release party for this book. You rock, but you kind of know that by now.
Thank you to my friends. Seriously, I’m the weirdest introvert most have ever met. I hate to socialize and then when I do, I’m in love with the experience. I guess it’s because I have awesome friends. You all go above and beyond to support me. Some of you read the books and love them. Some of you just support me. And then there’s a few of you who I suspect don’t care for me, but love the books. Whatevs. It all works in the end. Thank you to each and every one of you.
Thank you for entering the contest and suggesting the dark classics mentioned in this book. Stephanie, Cheryl, Elizabeth, and Katy. I love you all for so many reasons. Your comments keep me laughing and uplifted. So happy to share this book with you.
Thank you to my street team and to the main person on it. Kathy. You’re more than awesome and I love getting the notifications that you’re talking about the books.
Thank you to Stephanie, Jessica and Christopher. Wow, if it wasn’t for your major derailments on Facebook I would have written twelve more books this year. And I would be super unhappy and in need of laughter. You all rock. Thank you.
Thank you to super fans everywhere. I really can’t do this without you. Thank you to Anne, Katy, Kathy, Katie, Anna, Elizabeth, Shelah, Stephanie, Heidi, Melinda, April, Kelly, Cheryl, Vikki, Cheree, Casey, Maria, Cheryl, Belinda, Christopher, Derek, Clint, Marcus, Jamie, Tiffany, Marie, Susi, Nicole, Ashely, and many more. Love you all. I do this writing thing to keep you proud and entertained. Well, really I write just to keep Kelly entertained. The rest of you, it’s just extra that I publish these works. That’s the way it goes. You get it, I hope.
Thank you to my family. I really feel that I’m in good hands with you all. Thank you to Luke for the love and support. You rock. With a capital K.
Thank you to Lydia. You’re always my muse. The one I turn to when the plot doesn’t work. One might not think that a four year old should be helping with such things, but I know better. And you just keep getting better and better. Love you.
One-Twenty-Six Press.
Ren: The Monster Inside the Monster
Sarah Noffke
Copyright © 2016 by Sarah Noffke
All rights reserved
Copyeditor: Christine LePorte
Cover Design: Andrei Bat
All rights reserved. This was self-published by Sarah Noffke under One-Twenty-Six Press. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you are seeking permission send inquiry at http: www.sarahnoffke.com
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Summary: A bordering psychopath must face the monster inside him before it tears him apart.
Published in the United States by One-Twenty-Six Press
ASIN: B01GZ97RVO
To Melinda, for loving Ren as much as I do and being an amazing supporter.
REN: THE MONSTER INSIDE THE MONSTER
Prologue
Change always gets its praise. If we don’t change we die. That’s what my therapist likes to tell me. John F. Kennedy said, “Change is the law of life.” George Bernard Shaw said, “Progress is impossible without change.” Winston Churchill said, “To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.”
Fuck change. Fuck those people who think that a constantly evolving life creates perfection or progress or satisfaction. Nothing changes more than a butterfly. It starts as a larva and changes rapidly during its life. Only a small percentage ever progress to a caterpillar. And the life expectancy of a butterfly is ridiculously short. The male’s is especially short, not surprisingly. Sure a butterfly goes through incredible changes, but at what cost? Is it worth evolving to a beautiful being to only fly for a few days?
Not all butterflies have such short lives. The ones who seek shelter from the elements or migrate can live several months. So I’ve decided to follow the logical ways of the butterfly, an insect with a tiny brain, and that means I should retreat. Find a place where the winds can’t damage my symbolic wings. Where people can’t pollute me with their incredibly illogical behaviors and wrong ways of thinking.
I’m Ren Lewis and I fucking hate change.
Chapter One
The fluffy strand of garland falls to the ground with zero noise. Adelaide’s feet tangle in it as she makes for the door. I’ve already bucked Dahlia off my lap and shot to a standing position, my mobile close to breaking in my tight grasp. Trey’s words echo in my head from the call I just ended.
“Ren, what’s going on?” Dahlia says, standing too.
“Not so fast, Adelaide,” I say just as she reaches the doorway.
She halts, her body reeking with tension. Her shoulders are pinned up high. Her chin tucked. And even in the oversized sweatshirt she’s swimming in I can still spy the stress she’s holding in every one of her limbs.
The fucking sweatshirt. Of course. How didn’t I see the clues before? Her constant insistence to wear baggy sweaters although I had fitted button-ups bought for her. The napping, the sickness, the greenish bags under her eyes. I’m a fucking master of strategy and never realized the girl living with me for the last three months was pregnant. The word feels like a firecracker in my head. Pregnant.
“What the fuck, Adelaide,” I say, five feet from the girl who is visibly shaking now. She turns but the movement is so slow that for a moment she reminds me of a sloth, a terrified one.
“What is it?” she says, her eyes on the ground.
“Don’t what is it me. You know bloody well what Trey just told me or otherwise you wouldn’t be rushing for the exit,” I say.
Her eyes meet mine, a cruel pain in them. A shame I’ve seen there every day I’ve known her but just now completely understand. She’s a girl living a lie, one she’s in over her head with. How many times did she try to tell me her secret, only to fail to say the words? How long was she going to let this go on?
“I can explain,” she says, her hands knitted into the sleeves of her sweatshirt.
“I don’t want you to explain,” I say and then pause, shake my head. “Well, I do, but I want…” I trail off, strangely confused. In this scenario I don’t know what I want from her. What the fuck? That’s a first. I do know I don’t want Adelaide to be pregnant. It ruins everything. Everything.
Dahlia has just come around and accepted that I have a daughter. We’re back together. Adelaide makes sense in my life now. I mean, as much sense as a dog giving birth to kittens. But still I was starting to accept this bizarre fate I’ve been delivered. And now Adelaide has ruined it. Ruined it by breeding. By fucking up her future. Weighing herself down with a burden. She
had so much potential. The potential to become an elite agent for the Lucidites. But now, now she has a monster inside of her. One that’s going to fuck up our lives.
“Ren, what’s going on?” Dahlia repeats at my shoulder.
“Why don’t you tell her, Adelaide,” I say.
The girl drops her eyes. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I was going to when we got back to Dahlia’s house this week. And then also I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times before then and a hundred times since then.”
“Stop with the lyrical language and fess up, little liar,” I say.
“Things have been so hard between you and me, Ren,” Adelaide says, and then she looks at Dahlia. “And you, well, we didn’t get along at first. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
Dahlia tucks her chin to the side. “Adelaide, how I treated you is my burden. You shouldn’t punish yourself with it anymore. We’re past that. Making a fresh start.”
“Oh yes,” I say, my head burning like my hair is on fire. “So fucking fresh.”
Adelaide crushes her teeth down on her lip, nods. Tears well in her eyes.